


such great heights

by airblends



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Copious amounts of handholding, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Instructor!Iwaizumi, M/M, Mild Language, Oikawa has many regrets, Skydiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 07:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10485771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airblends/pseuds/airblends
Summary: Iwaizumi rakes a hand through his hair, wrinkles deepening. “Look,” he says, eyes boring into the side of Tooru’s face, “you paid for this. We all know this kind of shit is expensive, and you’re already up here, so if you back down now, you’ll regret it later.”“Nice try, Iwa-chan. You have to say that because it’s your job. How am I supposed to trust you?”“I’m a certified instructor, you jackass. I’ve been doing this for years, and my ratings on jumpfree.jp are top-notch. There’s no need to worry.”Tooru blinks. “Your ratings onwhat?”Or, Oikawa takes his friends’ advice to try something new. When he decides to go skydiving, he doesn't expect to fall in more ways than one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into [ру́сский](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5393336) available!

 

When it comes to decision-making, Oikawa Tooru might not be the brightest star in the sky.

Wind lashes at his cheeks from the open sliding door, tousles his hair and makes his eyes water. With his goggles on the bench beside him, the ground’s a blurred, muddy mess, and he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt at reining in his nausea. If this is what pushing one’s boundaries feels like, Tooru is happy to decline, thank you very much.

The fact that he let things come this far is tragic enough, but having no one to blame but himself makes it worse. It may have been Hanamaki’s idea to go skydiving, but it’s Tooru’s own name hanko-stamped on the sign-up form.

He started fumbling with the complicated belt buckles around his middle to keep his hands busy, but now he’s trying to undo them in earnest. They’re not going to let him jump like this, right? If he can convince them his equipment is defective, he won’t even have to admit that he’s just scared. Curses fly from his mouth as he chips a nail, which only serves to fuel his irritation more. It’s not like skydiving is going to magically heal a patellar fracture and a bunch of trampled dreams. Risking his life isn’t going to reset it to his last save point — life isn’t a video game.

Just as the buckles begin to budge, someone stomps Tooru’s plan into the metaphorical dust. “Excuse me, but _what the fuck are you doing_? Do you have a death wish?”

Tooru flinches. He _might_ have forgotten about the instructor sitting opposite him, a guy about his age with spiky black hair and wrinkles on his forehead. So what?

“Actually, I’d be keeping this on if I did,” Tooru spits, crossing his arms.

“What? Sorry, but I don’t think I can follow.”

“I’m not going to jump.” Tooru rolls his eyes. _Duh_.

Wrinkles-guy gives Tooru a pointed look. The next moment, he scoots over and sits beside him, most likely preparing to give him a pep talk. He could be cute if he weren’t constantly frowning.

“I know you’re probably scared, but isn’t that kind of the point? You’ll feel so much better if you stick this out, trust me. Can I help?”

Tooru scoffs, “Who are you, my therapist?”

The guy has the gall to grab Tooru’s restless hands and pull them away from his equipment. His face is dangerously close to Tooru’s when he addresses him again. “No, I’m Iwaizumi, and I happen to be responsible for your safety, so stop. Undoing. Your harness.”

Tooru exhales forcefully through his nose and pushes Iwaizumi away. He doesn’t need this guy’s help, and he definitely doesn’t want him strapped to his back as they both plummet to their deaths.

Iwaizumi rakes a hand through his hair, wrinkles deepening. “Look,” he says, eyes boring into the side of Tooru’s face, “you paid for this. We all know this kind of shit is expensive, and you’re already up here, so if you back down now, you’ll regret it later.”

“Nice try, Iwa- _chan_. You have to say that because it’s your job. How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I’m a certified instructor, you jackass. I’ve been doing this for years, and my ratings on jumpfree.jp are top-notch. There’s no need to worry.”

Tooru blinks. “Your ratings on _what_?”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks go a little pink. “You looked like someone who cares about that stuff! Don’t tell me you never look up restaurants on Yelp.”

Tooru can’t help but laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong, but I’ve never seen anyone bring it up in conversation like this. You’re funny, but that’s not going to make me jump.”

“What _is_ going to make you jump? Name it and I’ll make it happen.”

“Why do you care? You don’t even know me.” Tooru sizes Iwaizumi up while trying to avoid direct eye contact. His black and navy FreeFly suit fits him like a second skin, much unlike Tooru’s rented one. It accentuates Iwaizumi’s muscular build, and Tooru stops that train of thought right there. He’s not _that_ stupid.

Iwaizumi doesn’t even pay his staring any mind. He says, “Well, there’s usually a reason you’d want to jump, right? Some people do it for fun, but most of the time there’s some sort of backstory. You definitely have one, and I want to hear it.”

Ugh, does he really? This is like rehab counseling all over again. Tooru shakes his head, his hand reaching out to rub his bad knee. It’s still tender - the cast hasn’t been off for long.

“Not really. I fucked up and I’ve been mopey about it. My friends think this is going to make me un-mopey.”

Iwaizumi smiles. It’s a nice smile, much to Tooru’s dismay. “Well, they have a point. I’m sure you’d look much better without that frown plastered on your face.”

“Excuse me? I’m clearly very handsome!”

Iwaizumi shrugs, expression placid. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

Tooru tugs on his own suit collar, waves of heat rolling off of him. Was that— Is Iwaizumi _flirting_? No. Way.

“Haha! Iwa-chan, you’re so funny,” Tooru blurts and slaps his thigh, his voice loud enough to drown out the incessant thrum of the helicopter blades.

“So you’ll jump with me,” Iwaizumi asks, except it’s not a question. His eyes are back on Tooru’s, digging themselves into his very being. They’re dark brown, specked with green, and Tooru knows in an instant where all those good ratings came from. Anyone would fall for those eyes.

“What happened to my backstory?” Tooru tries weakly. Even blinking seems to be a feat too large to accomplish.

Iwaizumi’s voice fills the thin air around him and the air struggling in and out of his lungs. He’s close in a way that makes it hard to breathe. This can’t be happening to him right now, he can’t play along with Iwaizumi just because he’s attractive.

“Tell me on the ground. And now stop whining and put your gear back on.”

Tooru’s hands stay limp in his lap - all blood has vacated his limbs in favor of rushing to his face. He wouldn’t question it for a second if he started emitting steam from his ears. “I can’t,” he says lamely.

“Why?”

The human body is made up of seventy percent water and thirty percent embarrassment. “I forgot how...”

Iwaizumi’s mouth twitches, cracks at the edges, and then he laughs, quiet and melodious. “I’ll do it.”

Before Tooru can make up a reason to complain, Iwaizumi is up in his space, skilled hands working the belts and clasps and safety straps into their designated spaces. Every movement is deliberate, entrancing Tooru just like his eyes a moment ago. Iwaizumi’s skin is darker than Tooru’s, a beautiful shade of brown that makes him want to touch and see for himself if it’s as warm as it looks. A mole on his wrist catches Tooru’s eye, right at the pulse. He’s wearing his heart on his sleeve in the most literal way.

When he leans in to admire his handiwork, Iwaizumi’s breath billows against Tooru’s neck, rising goosebumps on his skin. At this point he’s about ready to jump on his own, mind racing, blood pumping.

“You look better already, a bit of color suits you,” Iwaizumi says, a hand lingering on Tooru’s shoulder. “Are you ready? Any last words?”

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru is reeling, both from that abomination of a joke and the fact that Iwaizumi _complimented_ him. He complimented him _twice_ within mere minutes. There has to be a catch somewhere.

“Just kidding, just kidding. If you’re ready, I’ll strap us together, yeah? Don’t give me that look, this is completely safe, I swear. I’ll hold your hand if it helps.”

Iwaizumi stands and pulls Tooru to his feet, gently turns him around and begins linking them together. He talks quietly, reciting some safety regulations and rules for Tooru to follow, but Tooru’s somewhere else entirely. Iwaizumi is pressed right against his back now, breathing deeply, warm, warm, warm. Instinctively, Tooru reaches for his hand - the angle is awkward, but it steadies him to some extent. He can’t imagine being this close to him for the entire duration of the drop, hell, for even another minute. His insides are tying themselves into knots, but Tooru can’t tell if it’s the skydiving bit or the ridiculously hot instructor bit. It might be both.

“…which is when I’ll deploy the parachute, okay?” Iwaizumi finishes, exhaling against Tooru’s burning ears. The hairs at the back of Tooru’s neck stand on end, little shocks of electricity shooting down his spine.

This brief moment of pleasant distraction comes to an abrupt end when Iwaizumi asks him to watch out for his head (“I hit mine the first time round, and I do not recommend it. Though an airhead like you will probably get hurt in some stupid way or another anyway.”) It's not like Tooru takes him all that seriously, but as realization hits that he is about to jump out of this helicopter, Tooru’s knees go weak and he sinks into Iwaizumi’s chest, scrabbling for something to hold on to.

“I can’t do this,” he says, “I can’t do this, Iwa-chan, let me go, let me go–”

Iwaizumi breathes in deeply - Tooru can feel it - and steadies him with a strong hand. “You can. You don’t even have to do anything, just let me do the work. Let me finish this, okay?”

“How am I supposed to trust you, I don’t know you, you could be a serial killer, I’m going to die, you’re going to die, we’re all going to die, someone wake me up from this nightmare, mphh–”

Iwaizumi’s hand forces Tooru’s mouth shut, and he catches a whiff of aloe handcream. Iwaizumi’s fingers are soft and smoother than they looked, and pressed as tightly to his lips as they are, Tooru can’t help but pause and feel. His heart still beats an irregular staccato, though.

“Will you shut up for a second?”

Tooru nods, but he has half a mind to bite Iwaizumi’s finger.

“You wanted this. Someone might have told you to, but you came here of your own accord. You paid the fee and went to the safety class. You got on the helicopter without anyone forcing you to. Oikawa, you want this, right?”

Tooru closes his eyes. His chest tightens, his eyes sting. Of course he _wants_. But he doesn’t want to jump.

“I want my old life back,” he says, barely realizing that Iwaizumi’s hand has dropped to his own, squeezing lightly. “I want to go back to last year, before everything went to shit.” The ambulances, the searing pain, the painkillers, the cancelled contracts, it all crashes down on him, envelops him in a cloud of frustration. A tear leaks out of his eye and he wipes at it furiously, trying not to let Iwaizumi see. Pity is the last thing he wants, especially not from someone who is clearly out to kill him. “Jumping isn’t going to give me that.”

Iwaizumi’s voice grows soft. “Of course it’s not. You can’t change the past, but you can change the future. Some people say a good scare gives your life a new direction, and you chose this one.”

“Why did you start skydiving?” Tooru asks. Talking extensively to someone strapped to your back is a little weird, but he’s playing for time, so he’ll take it.

"That’s none of your business. You haven’t earned the right to hear that story.”

“How do I earn it?”

Iwaizumi’s other hand - the one that isn’t holding Tooru’s - comes up to his face and pinches his nose. “Jump with me. Firstie jump unlocks firstie story. Easy.”

“Ouch! You’re so cruel, Iwa-chan!” Tooru protests, but something about Iwaizumi’s laugh makes his heart stutter. And, as much as it pisses him off, he’s kind of got him hooked. Who willingly subjects himself to this kind of torturous hobby? Who exactly is this guy? Why does he turn Tooru’s stomach into a beehive?

“Do you always charm your students like this?” he asks, bottom lip jutting out.

“So I’ve charmed you? Thanks for the compliment.”

The tips of Tooru’s ears burn. “No! Go away, Iwa-chan!”

“You might not be aware, but we’re _strapped together_. And you’ve been using a cutesy nickname for me all day, so I think I have every right to assume, you know.”

Tooru screws his eyes shut, brows knitted. He’s got a point. But…

“Ugh. Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll do it, but only to get rid of you.” He hears himself through a wall of cotton, every word muffled enough to be near incomprehensible.

“There, I knew you’d come around,” Iwaizumi says. He sounds pleased, and he squeezes Tooru’s hand one last time before he lets go. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

Despite it all, Tooru finds himself chasing after Iwaizumi’s hand. He grabs it and holds on tight, the feel familiar enough by now to be pleasant.

“Mm?”

“Like this. I mean, I’m… I feel safer this way.”

Iwaizumi lets a moment tick by without a word, his fingers locked with Tooru’s. He takes a breath like he’s about to say something, but the words never come.

Instead, Iwaizumi gently maneuvers them to the door, one slow step at a time. This is the real thing.

“Alright,” he says, nose brushing Tooru’s ear. “It’s your call from here on out. Remember, whatever happens happens, we’re in this together. Are you ready?”

A shiver passes through Tooru. His thoughts begin spiraling out of control again, a sure indicator of another panicked breakdown. He can’t have that, not now, not after all the work that went into building up to this moment. He gives Iwaizumi a shaky nod that would have gone unnoticed were he not so up in his space. Iwaizumi hands him his goggles and helmet before putting on his own. Tooru’s hold on Iwaizumi’s hand tightens reflexively, and he’s probably hurting him, but no one mentions it. Tooru allows himself a brief glance at the vast nothingness of the sky and the endless plains below before he swallows and bites the bullet.

For a singular moment they’re frozen in place. Then they’re falling.

 

* * *

 

There’s no air left in Tooru’s lungs. He’s got no strength to breathe, for his heart seems to have stopped beating altogether. Blood rushes deafeningly in his ears, cold fingers clamp around his own, wind pressing in on them. He screws his eyes shut for fear of passing out. Through the storm of it all, one word registers in Tooru’s brain, a holy sound.

“Parachute!”

 

* * *

 

Like a lightning strike, the parachute snaps open and billows above Tooru’s head. It breaks their fall and slows them down in their descent, allowing Tooru to gulp air and breathe for the first time.

“Open your eyes! I don’t want you missing this!” Iwaizumi’s voice comes light and airy, and it chases the pressure from Tooru’s ears. In a moment of boldness, Tooru does open his eyes. Blinding sunlight kisses his cheeks, all the world’s a swirl of color and light. It’s like someone pulled the plug on Tooru’s choked up fears, cut him free from the baggage of day to day life. All he feels like doing now is shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Don’t hold back,” Iwaizumi laughs. Their hands are still clasped tightly against the burning cold, their bodies held together safely. “I know what it’s like.”

And really, what’s holding him back? Tooru feels himself smile, and then he lets it all go.

Iwaizumi lets him shout to his heart’s content, endures him screaming gibberish at the sky until he loses his voice and goes back to watching the world spin with wide eyes, his insides light as a feather.

It’s the most gratifying feeling.

 

* * *

 

 By the time they touch down, Tooru’s throat itches and he can’t feel his hands, but none of it matters in the big picture. Exhilaration makes him giddy and restless, and as soon as they’re both steady, he undoes the harness connecting him with Iwaizumi, fingers shaky and uncoordinated.

“Wow, did you hate me this much?” Iwaizumi jokes, his cheeks and ears red and his eyes bright and full of sunshine. He’s so beautiful, Tooru can’t bear it. His hair is all messed up and flattened from wearing the helmet, evoking a distressing need in Tooru to slide his hands into it.

“Did you lose your voice? Hurt anything?” Iwaizumi knocks lightly on the top of Tooru’s helmet, making him jerk out of his reach.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru squawks, finally finding his voice. “That was so—I’m so—I don’t even know how to—” He breaks off, fumbling for words, arms flailing. The only way to get his feelings across now is through physical means, so he throws caution to the wind and flings himself at Iwaizumi, hugging him tight. “Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing closer before letting go.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Iwaizumi smiles, and it’s probably nothing but habit that compels him, but he pats Tooru’s shoulder, and his arm … and his wrist … until they’re holding hands again. Redness creeps down Iwaizumi’s neck. “I’ve never had such an annoying student, but you know, I’ll probably get bored with everyone who isn’t you now. Congrats.”

Tooru chokes on his own tongue. “Was that actually praise?”

“Never.” The lasting smile on Iwaizumi’s lips clearly contradicts that statement, but for once, Tooru is happy to let it slide.

“Okay,” he says, pleasantly aware of the fact that Iwaizumi’s making no effort whatsoever to let go of Tooru’s hand, “it’s your turn. You said you’d tell me your story if I jumped, and I’ve done my part. Now it’s Iwa-chan’s time to shine!”

Iwaizumi makes a face, contrary to what Tooru had anticipated. But of course, it was stupid to assume anything would happen between them now. Tooru’s just another student to Iwaizumi.

“I kind of lied to you about that,” Iwaizumi admits, scratching the back of his neck. “I have another student coming in in about an hour and we have to be back on time. I’m kind of on a schedule, so we’ll have to postpone that. Sorry.”

“What? But you promised, Iwa-chan.” It’s a half-hearted protest. Tooru won’t see him again unless he signs up for more dives, which is unlikely at best, so it’s wiser to make a clean cut while he can.

A beat passes. Iwaizumi chews on the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed. Eventually, he says, “Give me your arm. No, wait, fuck. I don’t have a pen, shit, sorry— Ugh, what I meant was, do you want my number?”

Tooru’s stomach coils in on itself, setting off a wave of nervous energy that spreads through his entire body, down to his toes. He can’t think of anything he ever wanted more.

“Mm, that’s not what you promised, but I’ll take it,” he says, playfully swinging their clasped hands between them. “Do you know it by heart?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ll see. Let’s go!”

 

* * *

 

By the time they get back, Tooru could recite Iwaizumi’s number in his sleep. He made him repeat it for him on the car ride, noting how he did not once complain about it. There’s no time for elaborate goodbyes, but Iwaizumi makes sure Tooru types his number into his phone, so he won’t forget it.

“Are you scared I’ll lose it, Iwa-chan? So cute,” Tooru teases.

“You wanted it, dummy.” Iwaizumi’s eyes linger on Tooru’s hands like he’s contemplating taking them again. Instead, he leans in close to whisper in his ear. “Call me around nine. And don’t forget.” Iwaizumi’s cheek brushes Tooru’s when he pulls back, and Tooru gingerly touches the spot with his own hand. It’s hot to the touch.

  
He can’t wait for nine o’clock to roll around.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for dropping off the edge of the Earth so suddenly. All I can say is, don't do writing, kids, because writer's block will come for you. Please do leave comments to let me know I haven't completely forgotten how to write :') (Disclaimer: I have no experience in skydiving whatsoever, and the research I did was minimal (lol) so if there are any jarring mistakes please let me know!) Title is from the song "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service :>


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